Foolish Dreams
by TheShippyQueen
Summary: They've both loved and lost, both living through their own personal pain, a pain they both understand. Set after S2 Ep1 and before S2 Ep3. A challenge fic.


_Title: Foolish Dreams_

_Rating: K+_

_Pairing: Anna and Branson_

_Summary: They're both hurt and both dealing with their pain in their own way. A challenge fic from The Highclere Forum._

_Disclaimer: Alas, I own not these characters. _

**Foolish Dreams**

"Has anyone seen Anna?" Mr Carson's voice rumbled out through the servants' hall as they all settled down to their afternoon break.

"Not since earlier," Daisy answered, pouring hot water into the teapot. "She went down t' village, but that were ages ago and she aint come back."

Mr Carson made a noise as the young maid left the room, he was about to ask Ethel when Mrs Hughes appeared at his side, a rather sheepish smile on her face.

"I sent Anna into Downton to run a few errands for me," she began to explain, clasping her hands together as she spoke. "I thought the fresh air may do her some good."

"Ah," Mr Carson replied, nodding in understanding. Ever since Mr Bates' somewhat startling departure, Anna had been on a different world, a shadow of her former self. "I expect you were right."

"I'm still wondering whether I should tell Anna about…well, about what I heard when Mrs Bates came to visit?" Mrs Hughes said, turning her head to watch Mr Carson carefully.

Inhaling deeply, Mr Carson faced her with a raised eyebrow. "I think it best we don't tell her, it seems cruel to prolong her pain, best to let her get over this…situation and move on."

"Easier said than done!" Mrs Hughes observed wryly but nodded in agreement. It did seem rather unfair to raise Anna's hopes, only to dash them again should Mr Bates prove himself to be unworthy again. She sighed heavily and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Anna has been gone an awful long time, though. I do hope nothing's happened."

"I'm sure she's fine," Mr Carson soothed. He was about to encourage Mrs Hughes to take tea with him when Mr Branson wandered through, hands in pockets and whistling some tune.

"Save me some tea, I've got to take Ol' Lady Grantham back 'ome…right on me tea break an' all!" Mr Branson said to Lily as he removed his jacket from the back of one of the chairs.

"Mr Branson," Mrs Hughes said. "Whilst you're in the village, see if you can see Anna around, she's been gone a very long time now."

Branson nodded with a smile, "I'll have a look, Mrs Hughes."

At Mr Carson's raised eyebrow, Mrs Hughes merely smiled, "Is it a crime to be worried now?"

"Of course it isn't!" Mr Carson answered with a soft chuckle before sitting himself down to tea.

xXx

"Branson, must you take corners so fast?" Violet demanded, whacking her cane against the back of his seat for added effect. "I almost slid right out of this contraption!"

Branson stifled a sigh, "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady! I'll slow down."

Old Lady Grantham was in a particularly dour mood this afternoon, it seemed she'd had an unpleasant confrontation with Mrs Crawley and Lady Grantham resulting in her taking it out on Branson's driving.

"Well, now you're going too slow!" Violet complained, whacking his seat once more. "Find a reasonable medium and stick to it!"

"Again, beggin' yer pardon!" Branson answered, rolling his eyes despite himself.

The rest of the journey managed to pass by without any more scoldings from the Dowager Countess and Branson found himself sighing with relief as the front door to the Dower House closed behind his employer's mother. Sometimes, being a chauffeur was anything far from fun.

Now his first mission was complete, he could tackle the next one. Mrs Hughes said that Anna had been running errands for her in the village; therefore it seemed reasonable to try there first. He'd noticed how withdrawn and sad Anna had been these last few months; he knew exactly the reason why. She was nursing a broken heart and sadly for him, he understood her feelings entirely.

Driving towards the village he was reminded of his own love, of his own aching vacuous void where his heart had once been. He let the last conversation he'd had with her play through his mind, allowed himself to feel the pain of her rejection once more. It hurt, it hurt like hell. But, somewhere amid the pain he felt comfort; at least the pain reminded him it had been real, that she had been real.

The village was quiet when Branson pulled into the little square and there was no sign of Anna. He pulled up outside the post office and called out to the postmistress as she tidied up her window display.

"Have yer seen Anna?"

The postmistress stopped her work and answered, "Aye, she were in 'ere a few hours ago, she posted a few letters and then left."

Branson sighed and thanked the woman before driving on. He took a couple of trips around the square, gazing down each little road, searching for a sign of a blonde head, but there was nothing. He asked a few more people, but to no avail and so decided to head back to the house, by now Anna was probably sitting in the servants' hall drinking tea.

He decided to drive back to the house; the truth was, now that Lady Sybil had left, driving didn't hold the same pleasure and enjoyment that it once had. Driving along, all he could think about was how much he missed her, how much he missed those conversations and how foolish he felt for laying out his heart in such a way.

He ought to feel some embarrassment, some desire to take back those words he'd spoken, but he couldn't and he wouldn't. He was not ashamed of speaking his heart, he meant every word…if only she had felt the same…for a moment he thought she had, but it seemed he had been very wrong.

It was these thoughts that kept him company as he took the journey back to Downton, he'd chosen the south route rather than the north one he travelled on with the Dowager Countess earlier, he personally preferred the south road, but, old Lady Grantham disagreed saying that the north road had a far better view and less turns in the road.

Branson decided to throw caution to the wind and put his foot down, the car rapidly picking up speed and he revelled in whizzing around the corners, imagining the Dowager Countess sliding about in the back.

He aimed himself at a particularly tight bend and kept his foot down, wondering how long his nerves would hold out before he hit the brakes. To his credit, it was only as he turned into the bend and felt the wheels start to lift slightly that he eased off the accelerator, but he didn't once brake. That is until it was almost too late.

Coming out of the bend, he saw a figure in the road, saw skirts and blonde hair, a basket in one arm, saw she was in his path, he blared his horn (though how he had the sense to do so, he'd never know) and hit the brakes, swerving, trying to miss the woman without ploughing Lord Grantham's car into the wall.

The woman heard and saw him almost at the same time and she leapt out of the way, but it was too late, he heard the sound as he clipped her and as the car screeched to a halt a short distance away from his crime, he saw in the mirror her fall to the ground in a mass of skirts and flying fruit and post.

He jumped out of the car, heart pounding in horror as it dawned on him he had just knocked a woman down. He would be fired for sure, this was it, he'd be sacked instantly and his life would be over. He'd be on a boat for France and in a bloody trench by Friday.

Cursing, he approached the still figure and just when he thought it could not get any worse, he realised just who he had knocked down.

Anna.

"Oh, no! Oh God, no, no! Christ…" he gasped as he jogged towards her. Reaching her she was already stirring, pushing herself up with her hands and groaning softly. "Anna? Oh my God….I am so sorry! Are you alright?"

She let out another groan as she pushed herself into a sitting position, gazing about herself in a daze. She looked up at him as he approached and his heart lurched to see her face covered in dirt, her skirt ripped at the bottom, her boots that had once been shiny were now all scuffed and her coat was covered in mud. Her hair was skewed and her basket was now adrift on the edge of the road, apples escaping into the hedgerows.

"Are yer hurt, Anna?" he asked, reaching her and kneeling at her side, resting one hand on her shoulder and trying to assess just how bad the situation was.

"No, oh! Mr Branson!" Anna exclaimed, eyes widening as she realised who her attacker actually was.

"Are yer sure? I'm so sorry, I never saw yer!" Branson babbled, panic setting in. It was one thing knocking a woman down, but to knock down your employer's Head Housemaid? It got worse!

"I think I might have twisted my ankle," Anna said, frowning as she gingerly stretched out her foot.

"Oh, God…I…Anna, I don't know what-" he gasped, running a hand through his hair in despair at the whole situation. "I was going too fast, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault…well, not really. I shouldn't have been walking in the middle of the road," Anna answered glancing down at her filthy clothes.

"But…I was driving like a right…" he stopped himself before he swore in front of her and adopted a sheepish look. "Oh, look at your clothes!"

Anna looked down again and brushed idly at her skirt, the dirt and mud from the road well and truly lodged into the material. "It's not too bad."

""Yer skirt's all ripped, I'll buy yer another…and a new coat…and a new pair of boots," he babbled frantically as his eyes fell onto each of her damaged items of clothing.

Anna waved her hand dismissively and reached up to try and fix her hair, "It's fine…"

"No, it's not! I could've killed yer, are yer sure yer alright? Oh, I can't believe this, I don't know what I was think-"

"No real harm done," Anna said, stopping him mid-flow. "Can you help me up?"

Branson nodded and quickly shifted, moving so that he could take hold of Anna's hands, he started to pull her up when she suddenly yelped out in agony causing him to stop and lower her back down.

"Yer foot?" he asked worriedly.

She bit her lip and nodded, trying hard not to let the pain show on her face. He knelt back down at her side and pointed vaguely at her foot before asking if she would mind him taking a look at it. She nodded her assent and he carefully pushed up her skirt and took hold of her ankle between his hands. Even with her boot on he could feel the ankle swelling up and knew they would have to get a doctor to have a look at it. Pressing onto the ankle he determined that it didn't feel broken, but one could never tell.

"It doesn't feel like it's broken, but we'll need to get yer checked out," he told her, pulling her skirt back down. "I'll lift yer up and carry yer to the car."

Slipping his hand beneath her legs and his other hand around her back and under her arm and carefully lifted her up, grateful that there was nothing to the young woman, he'd lifted heavier sacks back on his Pa's farm. Anna moved her arms and wrapped them around his neck for support as he shifted her slightly, adjusting and securing his grip. He carried her towards the parked car and settled her in the front passenger seat.

"Yer alright?" he asked, still worried.

She smiled weakly and replied, "Fine, thank you."

Running back to the scene of his crime, he gathered up Anna's scattered belongings before racing back to the car. He leapt into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel, before freezing in shock as the reality of it all hit him. He could see it in his mind, him driving far too fast, Anna in the road, clipping her with the car…Oh, what if?

"Are you alright, Mr Branson?" Anna's voice broke through his horror and he turned to look at her. Despite her face covered in mud and looking a little unusually pale, she didn't look too unwell, in fact, she was looking at him with concern, her face pinched with worry.

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" Anna said, chuckling a little, "You look very pale."

He turned away, glancing out through the windscreen, his knuckles turning white as he clung to the steering wheel. "I'm just…well, I'm just…a little shaken that's all. I could 'ave killed yer."

"Well, you didn't," Anna said simply, wincing a little as she shrugged her shoulders. "It seems you're not a very good hit! Thank goodness."

Branson turned to look at her incredulously. How could she be trying to make a joke about something so serious? He was such an idiot!

"Are yer sure yer alright?" he asked worried, looking at her carefully. "Honestly? Tell me honestly."

Anna sighed a little, "Well, apart from an ankle that's throbbing like hell and a pain in my side where I think you caught me with the car, I'm fine. I'll probably be black and blue tomorrow, but I can live with that. Now stop feelin' guilty!"

He turned away, he was certain he would never stop feeling guilty about this. He should have known better! To go flying around blind bends with his foot to the floor? He would spend the rest of his life thanking God, or whoever else was up there, that he hadn't killed her. It started to dawn on him that his job was still not safe, he had his victim in the car, she worked at the same place as him. As soon as they saw her, she would tell them and then…then, he'd be out on his ear.

"I'm goin' to lose me job for this…" he moaned softly, resting his head against the steering wheel.

"No, you're not," Anna soothed, reaching out and touching his arm gently. "It was an accident."

"I doubt his Lordship'll see it like that," Branson answered bitterly. "He'll sack me for sure."

"They needn't know what happened," Anna said carefully. "We don't have to tell them."

She went on to explain how they need not tell them that he'd knocked her down. She said she would say she fell and twisted her ankle, he was passing and saw her sitting on the roadside and helped her.

"Why would yer do that?" Branson asked incredulously as she finished.

"Because I'd 'ate to see yer cast out because I were too lost in my own thoughts and misery to hear this great thing roaring along the road behind me," Anna said with a light chuckle. "I have my dignity too, yer know!"

Branson chuckled softly and studied her carefully, "Are you sure?"

"Course I am! Now, let's get back home….and try not to knock anyone else down!" Anna grinned.

"Yer a fine woman, Anna Smith!" he laughed, his voice almost giddy with relief. He let out the clutch and they set off back home together.

They drove back to the house in silence, Branson trying hard to recover his shattered nerves before arriving back at the house and Anna slowly slipping back into her recent lost demeanour. He kept glancing sideways at her, wondering if she was alright or if she was more injured than she was letting on, but from her expression, Branson could tell her it wasn't any physical injury that was ailing her.

Pulling up at the house, Branson's nerves almost got the better of him, he was certain Mrs Hughes would smell his guilt and he started to doubt whether he could actually do this. But, Anna gave him another smile as he lifted her from the car and suddenly he felt far more confident.

"Just remember, you found me on the road, alright?" she said softly as he carried her around the back of the house.

Someone must have noticed them from one of the windows because as they rounded the corner that led them towards the backdoor, it burst open and Daisy, William, Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson rushed out.

What ensued next was all such a blur. Mr Carson sent for a doctor, Mrs Patmore made them some hot sweet tea, Daisy rushed around fetching a cushion for Anna to rest her bad ankle on, Mrs Hughes interrogated them both and William quickly set about polishing Anna's scuffed boots once they had been removed from her feet.

Branson followed Anna's lead and to her credit she lied beautifully. She told them she had tripped when walking home and twisted her ankle. She said she'd sat there on the roadside hoping someone would come by, when sure enough; Mr Branson had come to her rescue.

Though Mrs Hughes narrowed her eyes as though she didn't quite believe it, she didn't say anything, much to Branson's relief. Somehow in the course of the story, Branson came out of it looking like a hero. Daisy simpered around him, fluttering and fawning. Mrs Patmore gave him a hefty slice of cake and called him a "fine lad". Even Mr Carson had clapped him on the shoulder and said he would relay the whole thing to Lord and Lady Grantham.

Branson couldn't stop the waves of guilt and as the doctor arrived and studied Anna's heavily swollen ankle he almost buckled and confessed everything. But Anna, sensing his thoughts, made a joke about her clumsiness and how she would be right as rain in a few days.

The doctor pronounced that her ankle was just badly bruised and she would need to rest it, Mrs Hughes wanted to make her go to bed, but Anna refused and said she'd prefer to remain downstairs, saying that if she was alone she'd succumb to depressing thoughts. Daisy had frowned, but Mrs Hughes (and Branson) seemed to understand and so she was allowed to remain seated at the servants' table, her foot resting on another chair.

Miss O'Brien was her usual caustic self, "Don't go gettin' ideas in that head o' yours!" she'd said as she sat down at Anna's side. "I won't be fetchin' and carryin' for yer! Yer'll get no sympathy from me for flingin' yerself about in the mud!"

Branson's guilt kept coming back to him for the rest of the day, he wanted time to apologise again to Anna, to make sure she was alright, but it seemed that he couldn't get close to her. Every time he entered the room, someone else always followed and scuppered his plans.

Finally, whilst everyone was busy serving upstairs or in the kitchen, Branson entered the servants' hall to find Anna alone. She seemed oblivious to his presence as he walked into the room. Sitting, staring straight ahead, her eyes distant and her face contorted in distress, he recognised that look. It was the look of lost love, of someone nursing a broken heart, her face betrayed all the feelings he had pent up inside.

He stepped into her vision, shaking her from her thoughts and she jumped slightly in surprise. Blinking rapidly, he watched her try to hide her emotional pain behind a smiling façade, but he knew, he saw, he understood.

"How are yer?" he greeted her, smiling sheepishly.

She grinned back before adopting a mock stern glare. "Alright - no thanks to you! Come to knock me off my chair have yer?"

"I am so sorry, Anna," he said sincerely.

She waved her hand at him and shook her head, "Stop apologising! I'm fine!"

He settled himself in a chair at her side and thought carefully before looking her fully in the eyes. She looked tired, not tired from a few late nights, but tired to her very soul. Her eyes didn't seem to sparkle; he remembered they used to sparkle when he was here…now they looked lifeless and dull. Her skin seemed dull too; in fact, everything about her seemed dull, as though the very life in her was slipping slowly away.

"Mind if I sit and talk wi' yers?" he asked.

They sat and talked causally for a while, sharing small talk with the odd joke about his driving abilities. But, inevitably the conversation turned a little more serious.

"Earlier, you said you hadn't heard the car because you were too lost in your own misery," he began, taking care with how he worded things, "what did yer mean by that?"

Anna dropped her gaze and studied her hands in a lap. "Only that I always seem to be lost in my own thoughts these days….I do things without realising I've done them, I'm just in my own world."

"Because of him?"

The words came out before he had time to check himself and he cursed himself inwardly. If she was upset or offended, she didn't show it; instead she lifted her eyes and gave him a rueful smile.

"Because of him," she agreed.

He knew the basics of the tale; he'd heard the snippets of rumours surrounding Anna and Mr Bates. He recalled how happy she had been when Mr Bates had returned from London and how that had been destroyed by the return of his wife. Now, months later, Anna was a shadow of her former self with a constant look of sadness about her.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

Anna inhaled deeply and shifted in her seat. "He went back to his wife," she explained with as much dignity she could muster.

"And you loved him?"

"I still do," she admitted. "I always will."

"So, he just went back to his wife and left you with a broken heart?" Branson sat back in his chair and folded his arms, his opinion of Bates slipping by the second. He whistled softly in disbelief. He'd played his own fair share of unpleasant tricks on women in the past, he'd read some vile things that men had done in the papers, but he'd never lead a woman on when he was married, certainly not someone as lovely as Anna. "How noble!"

Anna shook her head sadly, "I know he loved me."

Branson laughed harshly at her naivety, but checked himself when he saw her face, saw how her expression fell and he turned serious as he took hold of her hands.

"I said it earlier, and I meant it, yer a fine woman, Anna," he said squeezing her hands lightly.

"Am I? I don't feel like it!"

"Well yer are, the way you've coped with it all…well, if it were me, I'd 'ave given his wife a right doing over, an' 'im an' all!"

Anna laughed at this, her hands still being held by his. His own heart soared at the sound of her laughter, grateful that he had made her laugh.

"I'm sure you would," she agreed, her eyes sparkling for the first time.

"And, if yer don't mind me sayin'," he continued, somewhat conspiratorially, "I think yer could take 'er!"

Anna's laugh intensified and he pulled at her hands, swinging them lightly as he laughed with her.

"There, that's better, laughing always makes things better." He gave her another cheeky grin, glad that he too was feeling much happier now. Happier than he'd felt for a long while.

"Well if I didn't laugh, I'd cry," Anna admitted, still chuckling.

"And we don't want that, no matter what you say, he aint worth your tears."

If she wanted to protest at that, she thought better of it and instead smiled back at him gently and gave a soft nod of agreement.

"What about you, Mr Branson?" Anna asked as he lightly let go of her hands. "How's your heart?"

Branson looked at her and blinked, confusion and surprise playing out across his face, wondering to what she was referring. Before he could ask, she continued,

"I'm not so caught up in my own problems, I do see things."

"And, what things do you see?" he asked somewhat cautiously. He let his hands slide out of hers and sat back in his chair, arms folded in defence.

"That you have been different since she left…that you too are nursing some wound to the heart," Anna replied, her face completely open, no hint of censure or judgement.

"How-"

"Like I said, I do see things and I'm not daft." She offered him a soft smile at that, her eyes twinkling ever so slightly.

"You probably think me a fool?"

"Not a fool, no. We can't help who we fall in love with, even if it's not the right thing," Anna explained, again her face still free from any form of judgement.

"Who's to say it aint right?" He couldn't help sounding defensive, where she was concerned, he was always defensive.

"Falling in love with the Earl's youngest daughter? It's not exactly sensible…but, then again, love isn't sensible," Anna offered.

They talked some more, Branson telling Anna about his parting with Sybil at the hospital in York and how he had laid out his heart to her, thinking she felt the same, only for her to ruin all his hopes.

"Yer didn't really think she'd run off wi' yer?" Anna asked with a hint of incredulousness.

"And why not?" he demanded, his face contorting into a frown.

"Well, you're…"

"A chauffeur? Things are changing Anna, the class divide is falling and what should it matter? So what if I'm only a chauffeur? I don't intend to be one all me life, and I could offer her a lot."

"Things aren't changing that much, not yet….not enough for you not to lose your job and your heart."

"Oh, what d'you know?" Branson snapped, standing up angrily.

"I know what it's like to have my heart broken, to be kept apart from the one I love," Anna answered simply, her voice calm and melancholic. "But, ranting at the world won't change a thing; it won't bring back what's gone and won't alter what's been said."

"How can yer be so…so…?" Branson searched for the words, running his hand through his hair.

"Foolish?" Anna offered, a small smile playing about her face.

Branson half sighed, half laughed and sat down heavily into the chair. "I were gonna say, sensible."

"And where has sensible got me?" Anna asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, a lot further than me….at least you aren't going around running women down just because you can't think straight for love."

"I can't think straight sometimes, sometimes, I can barely see how I'll get through the day, but you do," she admitted, her face falling slightly with unspoken memories.

"What yer mean is, get over it."

"No," Anna replied, "I don't. You won't get over it, not really, not ever. You just learn to lock it away."

"And what if I don't want to lock it away?"

"Then, you end up spending your life reliving the past and unable to move on," Anna answered. "And that's when you end up running women down with a car."

Branson laughed, "You won't let me forget that, will yer?"

"Not a chance!" she flashed back with an impish grin.

"So, what about you? You locked away your pain and ready to move on?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"No. Not yet."

"But, one day you will?" he pressed.

"Maybe."

"So, it's do as I say and not as I do, then?" he grinned.

"I love Mr Bates; I know he loved me too. That's the difference, hand on heart, I know he loved me. Can you say the same about Lady Sybil?"

Just then, Mrs Hughes entered and began fussing over Anna, suggesting it was time she made her way to bed. Branson sat back and watched her leave, hobbling and clinging to Mrs Hughes. He couldn't get her words out of his head, she made a damn good (albeit infuriatingly) good point. Could he really be certain that Sybil loved him the way he loved her? He'd thought so, but now, he wasn't sure at all. Was he, in fact, just chasing a foolish dream?


End file.
